I could divine he knew
That death within the sulphurous hostile lines,
In the mere wreck of nobly-pitched designs,
Plucks heartsease, and not rue.”
—The stories told by the rosters of military companies are always very meager. They are like the family histories recorded in an old Bible. A child is born; it dies. This is the beginning and the end. Now and then a marriage is noted. The army records are quite as brief. A soldier is mustered in; he is killed in battle, or dies, or is mustered out. Now and then he receives promotion, or is wounded. These are the only facts that are noted on the Company rolls. But meager as they are, they may, to one familiar with army life, tell a wonderful story of duty faithfully discharged and of dangers bravely faced. One of these military biographies—the story of another comrade and friend—I propose to quote as it is recorded in the books of the Adjutant General’s office. The subject of it was born across the ocean. The flag he followed, the Nation he gave his life to preserve, were his only by adoption. He was a German. Small in stature; his features delicate and sensitive; his complexion clear and rosy as a girl’s; well educated and of studious tastes; keeping “the noiseless tenor of his way” with a modesty only equalled by his merit, he won confidence and esteem by genuine deserving, and his history, even as it is set down in the brief notations of a regimental roster, is a wonderful story. I quote it in full:
“Zacharias Burkhardt. Born in Saxony. Merchant, 38 years of age, single. Enlisted in Co. B, Eighth Kansas Infantry, Sept. 2d, 1861, at Leavenworth, Kansas, and was mustered in as a private. Promoted Corporal, Sept. 2d, 1861. Promoted Sergeant, Nov. 17th, 1861. Promoted First Sergeant, August 1st, 1862. Promoted Sergeant Major of the Regiment, Dec. 17th, 1862. Promoted Second Lieutenant Co. B, May 13th, 1863. Promoted First Lieutenant, May 27th, 1863. Severely wounded at the battle of Chicamauga, Ga., Sept. 19th, 1863. Died at Atlanta, Ga., October 28th, 1863, of wounds received in action.”
Of his long and trying marches, in heat or cold, rain or sunshine; of the patient, zealous devotion to duty which won for him six promotions, never jumping a grade, in less than two years; of his unfailing good temper; of the exact discipline, enforced with equal kindliness, justice and firmness, he always maintained; of the modest pride with which he wore either chevrons or shoulder-straps, never exalting himself, yet never forgetting the added burdens they imposed, not only of authority but of responsibility—on all these qualities, so conspicuously illustrated during his service, I might dwell long and lovingly. But “they need no praise whose deeds are eulogy,” and nothing that I could say would add to the glory of a life so manly and unpretending, and of a death so heroic.
—A man who might have stood for the original of the principal figure of Rogers’s “Last Shot,” was Charles O. Rovohl. Tall, erect, compactly built, masterful in strength, with a fine head set on a finely proportioned body, his appearance would have attracted attention in any crowd of men. His soldierly qualities were no less conspicuous, and he was soon chosen for that post of honor and of danger, the Regimental Color-Bearer. He had enlisted in Company I, Eighth Kansas, at White Cloud, April 3d, 1862; on the 1st of January, 1863, he was promoted to be a Corporal; and in August, 1863, he was appointed Color-Bearer of the Regiment.
Around him, at Chicamauga, was a remarkable group of boyish-looking soldiers, the eight Corporals constituting the Color Guard: William E. Wendell, Co. E, Thomas Adamson, Co. D, John Binger, Co. B, George Mathews, Co. F, Charles Morgan, Co. H, Benjamin Sprouse, Co. G, Hugh Turner, Co. K, and Allen B. Bozarth, Co. H. Rovohl was about twenty-six years of age—most of his comrades were under twenty-one. Selected, as the Color Guard always is, from different companies, and with a carefulness inspired by regimental pride, the Color-Bearer and his guard of honor formed a striking group—he tall, powerful, manly, grave and silent; they boyish, beardless, laughing, chattering, careless—but one and all of them daring and gallant beyond what was common even in those heroic years.
Within an hour after the battle began, Rovohl, the Color-Bearer, was mortally wounded. When he fell his comrades indulged in a fierce dispute as to which of them was entitled to carry the flag. Several claimed it, but Wendell, affirming his seniority of rank as a Corporal, secured it. Two of them proposed to carry Rovohl to the surgeons in the rear, but he refused all help, saying: “My life is nothing-keep the flag to the front.” Corporal Wendell was soon mortally wounded, and Adamson then took the flag. Morgan and Sprouse were instantly killed, and Mathews was severely wounded. Adamson and Bozarth were also wounded. When night came and the roar of battle died away, four of these nine young men were dead, three others were wounded, and only two, Binger and Turner, were unhurt. Binger was, some weeks later, promoted to be a Sergeant, appointed Regimental Color-Bearer, and served in that position until his final muster-out, in January, 1866. He refused promotion offered him, to a Lieutenancy, because he would not part with the colors.